


Via Negativa

by ssa_archivist



Category: Smallville
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-05-23
Updated: 2002-05-23
Packaged: 2017-11-01 06:00:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/352828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ssa_archivist/pseuds/ssa_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It's a dark road we walk, to discover what we truly need. What we truly are." In answer to Livia's Smallville X-Title Challenge.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Via Negativa

## Via Negativa

by Tamashii no Miko

<http://www.angelfire.com/anime3/hoshinokaze>

* * *

Title: Via Negativa 

Type: Shonen ai- er, slash, I guess. Wow, it's been a loooong time since I had to use that term. 

Pairing: Lex Luthor/Clark Kent 

Disclaimer: Smallville belongs to the WB, DC Comics, MillarGoughInk, Tolin, Robbins, and Davola, and probably a whole bunch of other people. Suffice to say, these characters aren't mine. I'm just borrowing them for my own twisted purposes. Please don't sue. 

Author's Note: This is in response to Livia's Smallville X-Title Challenge. I just couldn't resist. 

* * *

Via Negativa   
by   
Tamashii no Miko 

* * *

via negativa (Latin): the darkest path taken en route to enlightenment 

* * *

"So." His hands sat lightly on the slight curve of his hips, his head tilted to the side, trying to cover the fear in his eyes with anger. "You think you know me, do you?" 

I've known you for three years. For three years, you've been the closest thing I've ever had to a friend. Played the Christ to my water-logged Lazarus, the lamb to my lion, the sun to my moon. My charming antithesis. And I, in turn, have teased you like a brother, comforted you like a child, held you like a lover. I trusted you as completely as I could trust anyone. 

And you did it all with love in your eyes and lies on your lips. Lies falling like a smooth fountain from your clever tongue, so practiced, and who would have thought? Who would believe that an innocent like you could ever lie with such facility? And it was all home-grown. Not my influence, not that, never that. Never would I have considered teaching you the art of falsehood, expert though I was. You were too sweet for that. Too good. 

I could never sully that shining purity with the muck of my world. 

And all the while you sang sweet to me of love and trust, and all the while I doubted and hated myself for doubting, for who should have the right to doubt such perfection? 

I should have suspected. Looking back, it's all so painfully obvious, and I curse myself for being so blind to everything going on around me. 

No. Not everything. Just you. I didn't want to see. 

Some say that the will to be stupid is a very powerful force. As a Luthor, I am expected to be a force to reckon with gravity itself. Falling victim to such a common human frailty is foolish. As my father's son, it is unforgiveable. In my business, stupidity will kill you as swiftly and surely as a speeding car. 

A speeding car ... 

The will to be stupid. The wish to be blind to everything except your eyes and your lips and your sweet insistence that it wasn't anything special that you'd done, that I hadn't really hit you, that it must have been the crash that had ripped the roof off the Porsche like the lid off a tin of sardines. The desperate hope that you were just as you seemed, beautiful and kind and caring, and that you cared for me ... 

I knew I should have paid more attention to my self-esteem growing up. I was classic. Textbook, really. Hold out the possibility of real, requited love and I'm drooling like one of Pavlov's dogs. "He likes me for me." What a horrendous cliche. But that's what it all came down to in the end, wasn't it? You didn't hate me for being rich, for my reputation, for being my father's son. You liked me, loved me, because I was Lex. And that's what kept me tied to you, blind and begging for more. Because despite the lies and the betrayal, you just loved me. 

I knew. Somewhere deep-down and very repressed, I knew full well you were lying to me. Any idiot could have figured out that you were different, stronger, faster. Initially, I thought it was just a random mutation from the meteors. If I'd put any effort into it, I could have discovered the whole truth for myself. But I kept my curiosity muzzled, thinking almost drowsily that the truth was a fair price for this glorious gift. I simply didn't want to see. 

Every other lover ... They'd all lied to me. Just like you. But none of them had ever loved me. 

I stared at my hands, tented on the polished surface of my desk. "I wouldn't presume to think I know you." I heard his sharp intake of breath, and raised my eyes to his. "I wish I did." 

His mouth fell open ever so slightly, his eyes narrowing in pain. "How can you say that, Lex? You're my best friend. I love you. I thought-" 

I broke in calmly, my voice even. "How can you stand there every day, look me in the eye, and lie to me?" He looked at me as though I had just punched him in the stomach. I felt as though I had. "How can you come every night to my bed when you mistrust me so much?" He sank into the chair across from my desk. "How can I know that you're not lying to me when you say you love me?" 

Anger flashed in his eyes as tears gathered in his lashes. "It was never a lie," he ground out, "when I told you I loved you." 

I kept my eyes steadily locked to his. "I owe you a great deal, Clark. More than I could ever repay." His expression hardened at my unfortunate choice of words, and I hurried on. "I promise not to interfere in your affairs. You can keep your secrets, whatever they are. But I can't continue this relationship." I tried to keep my voice steady, calm. Calm was the key. "Not if you feel that you can't trust me." 

He bit his lip and tried to blink his tears away. "Are you giving me an ultimatum?" he whispered, not looking at me. 

"No, Clark." He looked up, blue-green eyes so open. Desperate? I felt the familiar wrench in my chest, and ruthlessly quashed it. I unfolded my hands and stood, coming around my desk. He rose tentatively from his chair, and I came to a stop in front of him. Cool and collected. "I'm saying goodbye." 

"Lex, please-" I dipped my head and covered his mouth with mine, tasting him for the last time. No one else had ever had a flavor quite like his. Cool, always so cool, and tangy. Like ice and crisp apples. He trembled against me for an instant, then slid his arms around my neck as if hanging on for dear life. It was almost a surprise when I found my hands buried in his hair, and I broke away slowly. He nuzzled into my neck, and I had to keep myself from shivering. "If I told you now," he murmured, his voice muffled, "would it make any difference?" 

I stared fixedly at a painting on the wall behind him and and slid my hands down to rest on the small of his back. "No." 

"I didn't think so." He swallowed, and I felt his damp eyelashes flutter against my throat, but his voice was calm, controlled. Perhaps he'd been learning from me after all. "Will you be going back to Metropolis?" 

I nodded slightly. "In a few months." His breath puffed warmly against my skin. "If you ever need anything, Clark ..." 

"It's all right." He was so warm, pressed against me. "I'll be fine." 

I nodded again. "Still. You can always contact me if you need anything. I'd like to stay friends." 

"I'd like that, too." His breath caught in his throat. "Lex ... I love you." 

I tightened my arms around him. "I love you, too, Clark." 

"It doesn't fix anything, does it?" His voice was so soft, almost wondering. 

I squeezed my eyes shut. "No." 

He raised his hand to my cheek like a blind man. It took all I had not to lean into his touch. He sighed softly. "I'd better go." 

"Would you like me to walk you out?" God, I didn't want to move my hands. 

"No, it's all right. I'll find my own way out." He stepped away from me, and turned towards the door. 

"Clark?" 

He stopped, and didn't turn around. "Yes?" Nothing in his voice. He had been learning. 

He had to go. Had to, before I succumbed once again to his irresistable gravitic pull. "Keep in touch?" 

He nodded slightly. "Yeah." A slight pause. "I'll see you around, Lex." 

I nodded almost automatically before I remembered that he couldn't see me. "Yeah." 

He opened the door, walked out, and carefully shut it behind him. He was gone. Just like that. 

I walked unsteadily back to my desk. I could afford a little unsteadiness, now that no one could see me. Collapsed in my chair and buried my face in my folded arms, fogging the polished surface of my desk with warm breath. 

It's a dark road we walk, to discover what we truly need. What we truly are. 

And I need truth more than love. I need it so much that every secret kept from me feels like a betrayal. I was a fool. You had the right to your secrets. You were under no obligation to share them with me. But I couldn't stand the fact that you had them, that you knew something I didn't. And so I threw away the only thing that had made me happy, kept me happy, for the last three years, because I couldn't stand the fact that you wouldn't strip your soul bare for me to inspect. God, I am a selfish fool. It wasn't about trust at all. How could I blame you for lying to me, when I've been lying to myself for the last twenty-three years of my life? 

But I had to have the moral high ground, just in case. I raised my head and gazed sourly at the painting by the door, wondering if I should have it removed. 

I shook my head, and returned my attention the darkness between my shirtsleeves and my desk. Leave it, as a reminder of my hypocrisy, my selfishness. My weakness. 

Leave it, as a memorial this day. I should thank you, Clark. You've given me such clarity ... I can see myself now, more clearly than I have in years. I think I know what I am now. And now, I can truly live up to my name. A force to be reckoned with. And I will do great things. 

After all, I am my father's son. 

~owari 


End file.
